


Alpha to Alpha

by magisterpavus



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha Keith (Voltron), Alpha Shiro (Voltron), Alpha/Alpha, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Bottom Shiro (Voltron), Facials, First Time, Hurt/Comfort, Knotting, M/M, Marking, Mating Bites, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Mutual Pining, Nipple Play, Overstimulation, Praise Kink, Protective Keith (Voltron), Protective Shiro (Voltron), Rimming, Sex Pollen, Soulmates, Virgin Keith (Voltron)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:07:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24558133
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magisterpavus/pseuds/magisterpavus
Summary: Alphas aren’t supposed to want their mate to be another alpha.And yet. There Keith is, in love with Shiro.
Relationships: Keith/Shiro (Voltron)
Comments: 53
Kudos: 855





	Alpha to Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> is this the first omegaverse fic I've posted? wild. 
> 
> anyway, it's kind of ridiculous how well alpha/alpha sheith seems to work & I was greedy for more content of it, so this was a lot of fun to write! I'm forever weak for co-leaders/co-Black Paladins sheith so this seems like the natural extension of that lmao
> 
> [follow me on twitter @saltyshiro](https://twitter.com/saltyshiro) for more sheith and shenanigans~

Alphas aren’t supposed to want their mate to be another alpha.

It’s a rule so old it hardly bears repeating, with a thousand supposed justifications: it’s unnatural, they can’t procreate, it’s something they’ll outgrow, it’s dangerous, their instincts will make them hurt each other, the mating bond won’t work properly, it’s just simply not possible for alphas to fall in love.

And yet. There Keith is, in love with Shiro.

This isn’t a new state of affairs. It’s been more or less a constant since their Garrison days. In some ways, it gives Keith peace. Before Shiro, he had suspected maybe something was wrong with him. Omegas smell nice enough to him, sure, but in the way perfume or flowers smell nice — not in the way that would make him want to help them make babies. He’s not very keen on that whole process anyway, though apparently his biology should be howling for it whenever a fertile omega is within range. 

But his body has only ever howled for Shiro. 

When they met, Shiro seemed to be the alpha ideal — big, strong, handsome, kind, intelligent, and passionate, with an omega partner to match. That was what he seemed, anyway, at first. Keith saw him as he supposed he ought to: competition. Keith’s always been scrappy, an alpha forced to fight his way to the top, while Shiro made it all seem so infuriatingly effortless. 

But as Keith got to know him, things...shifted. No. Not  _ things.  _ His whole world, really. Shiro did that to him. As it turned out, Shiro was not perfect; his position was not effortless to hold at all. The whole Garrison expected Adam and Shiro would be a mated pair, if they weren’t already, but it didn’t take long for Keith to notice the cracks, the tension between them. Shiro was sick, and Adam was worried, and Shiro was stubborn, and Adam was stubborn, and there were some things the two of them just never talked about until they boiled over and it was too late to salvage the situation.

When Shiro confided in Keith about these things, and all the other times he treated Keith not as inferior or a misbehaving alpha who needed to be reminded of his place, but as a friend...Keith had been struck by the realization that things didn’t have to be him against the world. Shiro was kind. Shiro was trusting him with these insecurities that almost no one else knew, things that, if they got out, could cast a shadow of doubt over his public appearance of perfection. 

For a long time Keith wondered why. At first, a spiteful part of him thought of telling Shiro’s secrets, of antagonizing him like so many of the other alpha cadets did to Keith. But he could never find any pleasure in the thought of betraying Shiro’s confidence. Shiro was his friend, and Keith didn’t want to lose that — or him.

And yet. Keith finds himself losing Shiro again and again. And every time, every damn time, he wonders why he can’t just let Shiro go. Why, when all the other paladins declare Shiro dead and gone, Keith digs his claws in deeper and refuses to abandon the hope that Shiro is still out there in the cold maw of space.

And when Shiro comes back smelling a little different, a little more like Keith thinks alphas are meant to smell to him — repulsive — he wonders if he’s finally normal. The thought brings him no comfort. The thought of being anyone’s mate but Shiro’s is painful, wrong, unimaginable. 

And when the clone reveals himself, Keith hates that his first thought is relief. Relief that it was not him who changed, but Shiro; relief that Shiro never truly became someone he was meant to fight.

And when he fights the clone, Keith hates that what he feels is not all fear and grief — though he feels plenty of that — but a hot and wicked vein of desire that flares brighter with every violet flicker of Kuron’s eyes and every clash of their swords. It hurts, but something in it is familiar,  _ right. _ It isn’t right when Kuron scars him, or when he throws every one of Keith’s weaknesses back in his face, but there is a dance in the way they battle each other, a back and forth, a joining in the violence. Keith doesn’t want to hurt Shiro, but if that is how alphas must be, and if Shiro wanted to hurt him…

Keith would let him. Maybe that makes him less of an alpha for saying so — it’s a weakness for an alpha to submit when their nature is supposed to be just the opposite. Maybe when he lets go and falls into the stars with the man who has Shiro’s face, that’s a weakness, too. Keith decides he no longer cares. Shiro is his weakness, and there is no changing it. There is no changing him.

And then Shiro is back, with him, and the Universe closes in on them, and suddenly Keith is on a planet that wants to kill him, dangled over the edge of a volcano by a Galra who wants to kill him for taking her lover from her.  _ You took away everything.  _ Keith doesn’t know whether to laugh or cry from the irony of it. 

_ You don’t know what loss is,  _ he wants to tell Zethrid, wants to scream it into her snarling face until she understands and pushes him into the volcano’s bubbling heart, because if it were himself in Zethrid’s place, he wouldn’t have hesitated to kill her, wouldn’t drag it out like this. The words slam against his skull with every squeeze of her fingers around his throat. 

_ You want to know what loss is? You want to know how it feels to look at the stars and know they’ve taken the best person in the Universe from you? You want to know what it is to be heartbroken? You lost her once? Try three times, four, ten, who knows how many more times he will be torn from me? And even if he stays, how can you know the loss of knowing you will never have him the way you really want, even when he’s right there beside you? _

But Keith doesn’t say any of these things, because he can’t breathe. 

His vision spots at the edges, Zethrid’s forearm braced over his chest, a crushing pressure that his lungs and ribs protest. Acxa is there, trying to talk Zethrid down, but Keith knows it isn’t going to work. He’s not looking at Acxa, anyway. He’s looking at Shiro, behind her, his silver hair and armor shining like a beacon among the dark lava rocks. 

Keith feels the heat of Zethrid’s blaster against his cheek and strains away from it, panting, and his eyes meet Shiro’s and he doesn’t know what Zethrid says, but he sees Shiro’s face change, twist in a snarl mirroring Zethrid’s own. His new arm roars to life in a blinding ray of platinum light, rushing towards the volcanic ledge. Acxa and the MFEs cry out, but Shiro doesn’t listen, and Keith can’t hear a thing save the blood roaring in his ears.

Shiro’s arm throws Zethrid over the ledge. Keith is sure of that. Zethrid grunts in pain as the ray sears her arm, forces her to let go of Keith before she falls, but Shiro doesn’t stop there. His metal arm pushes her to her death. It all happens in an instant, and then Shiro’s arm is at his side again, and he’s running to Keith, ignoring the MFEs’ warnings. 

Keith doesn’t know why he scrambles to the ledge to catch Zethrid, his hand closing around her wrist, straining to haul her back up. The volcanic fumes choke him, but he calls upon every ounce of strength left in his body, trembling with the effort, dragging her up inch by inch. Then there’s someone at his back, a presence and scent he will never forget, can never forget, and Shiro wordlessly helps him pull Zethrid the last few feet to safety. 

They don’t speak – Keith has no air left in his lungs to do so, and as soon as Zethrid is on solid ground, he lets himself fall against Shiro. Shiro catches him, enfolds Keith in his arms as Keith breathes shallow and ragged against his chest. “It’s okay,” Shiro whispers, and Keith doesn’t know if he’s imagining the strangeness of Shiro’s voice, the way it trembles and breaks. “I’ve got you, Keith, you’re safe now.”

Keith closes his eyes and sinks into breathless darkness. 

When Keith wakes up, Shiro is beside him. 

This isn’t the first time, but it feels different from the others. When Shiro was there beside him in the hospital on Earth, there were others all around, and Shiro was kind — he always is — but after giving Keith a gentle hug and a soft  _ good to have you back _ , he left Keith with Krolia and Kolivan, clearly not wanting to intrude. Keith gets it, and part of him was surprised Shiro was there at all. They all knew the risks of being paladins. They were gonna get hurt somewhere along the line.

But this time...Keith wasn’t injured in combat, in his Lion, or even as a paladin. Zethrid’s revenge was personal and cruel. When they found him, he was stripped down to his undersuit, exhausted and bloodied and near comatose from oxygen deprivation. Hardly a heroic role to die in.

Maybe that’s why Shiro is looking at him like that now — his eyes are dark and grim, brow low, mouth set in a firm, frowning line. It’s not a good expression, and Keith cringes upon seeing it. 

“Shiro,” Keith croaks. 

“Shh,” Shiro says. His gaze lowers, and his frown deepens. “Your vocal cords were damaged slightly, and Allura said the healing pod could only do so much...you need to heal.”

Keith swallows. “You’re mad at me,” he whispers.

Shiro pauses. Something flickers across his face — it’s guilt. Keith’s stomach flips. “Keith...I’m not…”

“I’m sorry,” Keith says. He’s too tired to argue, to stand his ground. “I should have been more careful.”

Shiro’s eyebrows lift. “I think you can be forgiven for not thinking straight when you were inhaling mostly noxious gas, Keith. There’s nothing to be sorry for.”

“Then why are you looking at me like that?”

Shiro frowns again. “Like what?”

“Like I fucked up,” Keith rasps, closing his eyes, because he can’t bear to look at Shiro when he adds, “like you’ve been looking at me for a while, now.” Shiro inhales, sharp, but Keith barrels on before he can protest. “Don’t lie, it’s true. I don’t know what I did, but you can just tell me, you know. Instead of — avoiding me, or whatever it is we do now —”

That much, Shiro can’t deny. He  _ has _ been avoiding Keith, and Keith doesn’t know why, thinks that part of it is Shiro’s new role on the Atlas, but fears part of it is himself, fears that maybe Shiro had a little too much time to think on the astral plane, enough time to suspect that Keith’s feelings towards him are more than friendly, enough time to decide he had better find himself a mate before death found him again. The thought twists tight and unhappy around Keith’s heart. There are lots of omegas on the Atlas crew, and more than a few of them give Shiro more attention than is strictly professional. So maybe it isn’t just Shiro’s duties as captain of the Atlas that are keeping him away –

Shiro’s hand falls heavy on Keith’s shoulder and squeezes. He’s still frowning. “Keith. You think I’ve been avoiding you?”

“Tell me you haven’t,” Keith pleads. “Look me in the eyes and tell me, Shiro.”

Shiro’s hand slowly falls from his shoulder. His voice is soft, beseeching when he murmurs, “Keith, why would I avoid you? You’re my best friend. We don’t see each other as much as we did as paladins, but, honestly I thought _ you  _ wanted some space, after...” His gaze darts to Keith’s scar, and he swallows.  _ “You _ didn’t fuck up, Keith. It’s not – your fault.”

_ “Then why are you looking at me like that,” _ Keith gasps, frantic because the expression has not left Shiro’s face, a dully simmering rage, clear displeasure, and all of it directed at him.

Shiro’s brow creases. He reaches out again, but this time it is not to touch Keith’s shoulder. Instead, his fingers brush Keith’s throat. Keith goes still, staring up at him as Shiro’s left hand curls around his neck for a brief, impossible moment, tracing the purplish bruises of a massive handprint. “Because she hurt you,” Shiro says. His voice is very low. “She left – marks on you.”

Keith sucks in a breath. “Shiro –”

“I couldn’t think,” Shiro admits, gaze not leaving Keith’s neck, “I just knew – I couldn’t let her...take you from me. I couldn’t, Keith.”

Keith’s heart pounds. It’s too much to hope. “Oh,” he whispers. He licks his dry lips. “I – I’m glad you found me, Shiro.”

“Me too,” Shiro whispers back. He’s leaning over Keith. They’re close, so close in the dark room, and Shiro’s scent is smothering, a warm blanket over him. He wants it closer. He always wants Shiro closer.

Keith hesitates, summons up the courage to ask a question he knows he can’t take back once he says it. “Why does it matter to you that she left marks on me?”

Shiro draws back, eyes widening infinitesimally. “That’s not – uh.” 

Keith sits up, so that they’re eye level. Shiro’s gaze darts to the door, then back to Keith. His scent has changed, souring a little with nervousness, maybe. Keith’s heart pounds. “I didn’t think alphas cared about that kind of thing with other alphas,” he continues, struggling to keep his voice even.

Shiro’s breath hitches audibly. “I care about it. With you.” He lets out a small, shaky laugh and runs a hand through his hair, shoulders hunching. “I don’t – it doesn’t matter to me that you’re another alpha, Keith. Should it?”

Keith studies him, leans forward a little, watches Shiro’s pupils dilate as Keith moves closer. “No,” Keith says. “It doesn’t matter to me.” He peers at Shiro, and inhales the other alpha’s scent, the powerful bloom of petrichor and bergamot, dizzying in its soothing familiarity.

Shiro blinks at him. “Did – Keith, are you  _ scenting _ me?”

Keith freezes. “Um.”

Shiro opens his mouth. Closes it. “Keith –”

“Yes, fine, I’m scenting you,” Keith snaps, jerking back, huddling against the pillows. “Why, would that be so terrible?”

But Shiro follows him, leans back over the bed, his eyes half-lidded as he says, “No...I guess not. It’s just – I smell good, to you?”

Keith’s ears are hot. “I – I mean, yeah. I guess. Pretty good. Do, uh. Do I not?”

Shiro’s gaze is warm on him, suddenly. “You smell good to me, Keith.”

Oh,  _ fuck. _ Keith was not and will never be prepared for that sentence coming from Shiro. “Ah,” he manages. “That’s. You don’t think that’s weird?”

Shiro kind of shrugs. “It’s not that weird.” He’s really fucking close.

“Oh,” Keith squeaks, “it’s, um, it’s not?”

Shiro is staring at his neck again with that look. “Who told you it was weird?”

“I –” Keith gulps. “Biology?”

Shiro snorts. He reaches out, hand brushing Keith’s neck again, and both of them shiver. “That doesn’t mean we’re not allowed to…” He trails off. “You’re my best friend,” Shiro reaffirms. “Of course you smell good to me. You’re like family, Keith.”

“Family,” Keith croaks. “Yeah, okay.”

Shiro’s eyes glint. “Alphas can be family. Can’t they?” It sounds like a challenge.

Keith is half-hard under the blankets. He resists the urge to squirm. “Like – like mates?”

Shiro tilts his head. “Yeah, sure. Why not?”

“Isn’t that kind of –”  _ Taboo,  _ Keith doesn’t say. _ A really bad idea. Impossible, even.  _ “Frowned upon?”

Shiro’s face shutters off, and he shifts back on his heels, hand sliding away from Keith’s neck. The intimate, cool fragrance of his scent surrounding Keith fades into something more neutral. “I guess it can be,” Shiro says, noncommittal. 

Keith looks at him, feeling like he’s lost something all over again, but unable to pinpoint it. “So – so you’re not mad at me.”

Shiro’s face crumples, and that’s all the warning Keith gets before Shiro is hugging him. “Never,” Shiro promises, and if Keith tucks his face into Shiro’s throat, breathing him in and savoring the feeling of being held, well, that’s between him and his dick. 

*

Keith doesn’t mean to snap when he goes to find Shiro on the Atlas a week later and finds him in conversation with an omega, one Keith has never seen in his life, and a much lower-ranking crew member judging by his uniform. Yet, rank be damned, he’s standing far too close to Shiro to be polite, head tilted up in a way that puts his unmarked throat on display, and there’s no mistaking the excitement in his sugary sweet scent. Shiro’s smile is strained. Or maybe that’s just wishful thinking.

Keith storms over to them, placing himself firmly beside Shiro with a hand on his shoulder and glaring at the omega, whose sentence trails off uncertainly. “Keith?” Shiro exclaims, turning to him wide-eyed. 

Keith’s gaze doesn’t leave the omega. His eyes narrow. “You would do well to remember not to get too familiar with your commanding officer,” Keith warns. “Don’t you have a job to do?”

The omega stammers out a reply, hastily salutes, and scurries off. Shiro looks askance at Keith. “What was _ that?” _

“He was bothering you,” Keith mutters, taking a step back and clearing his throat. 

“He wasn’t –” Shiro pauses. His mouth twitches. “Okay, maybe he was bothering me a little. But it’s no big deal, Keith.”

“Your comfort is a big deal,” Keith retorts, then realizes what he’s said and clamps his mouth shut.

Shiro just raises an eyebrow. “Thoughtful of you. But I’m guessing you didn’t make the trek over here just to tell off the crew’s flirtiest omega?”

Keith bristles again. “Flirtiest?” he demands. “What, are there _ other _ flirty omegas in your crew?” Shiro gives him a look. Keith clears his throat. “Sorry. Uh. No, I wanted to tell you that Voltron is going on a mission to a planet the Blades traced some weirdly strong quintessence signatures to – we think it could have something to do with Oriande and Honerva. We might be gone for a while, but –”

“Atlas will go with you,” Shiro says. It isn’t a question.

Keith frowns at him. “Earth needs Atlas’s defense, Shiro. You can’t leave the planet unprotected; the MFEs can’t hold it alone.”

Shiro folds his arms. “Then I’ll leave someone else in charge. Veronica can handle it.”

“Shiro, Voltron can do this –”

“Am I not a paladin anymore, then?” Shiro demands, and Keith falters at the raw edge in his tone. Shiro sucks in a breath, and looks away, tense but struggling to compose himself. “I’m sorry. That was uncalled for.”

“No, it wasn’t,” Keith murmurs, and reaches out, then thinks better of it. He rubs his own forearm, self-soothing. “Of course you’re still a paladin, Shiro. You’ll always be the Black Paladin.”

“That’s you,” Shiro reminds him, but his smile is sad.

“And you,” Keith retorts. “We can both lead Voltron, Shiro. The Black Lion is still yours. It’s just that, now you also have this...bigger magic robot ship thing.” 

He gestures vaguely around them, and Shiro snorts. “Yeah, it is kind of weird, huh?” He eyes Keith and adds, “I’m serious, though. I’m going with you to this mystery planet. Let’s hope it’s not volcanic.”

Keith flinches. “Don’t worry about it, Shiro. I’ll be fine; I can take care of myself.”

“I know you can, but _ I  _ would be worried sick until you came back,” Shiro admits. Keith blinks at him. “What?” Shiro says sheepishly. “It’s the truth. Plus...it’s been a while since we went on a mission together, hasn’t it?”

Keith would be lying if he said the thought of sharing close quarters with Shiro in the Black Lion for who knows how long wasn’t a very appealing one. He swallows. “Yeah. Guess it has.” He waves a hand. “Okay, if you really want to come along, that’s. Fine.”

Shiro peers at him. “Yeah? I mean, I don’t have to, if you’d prefer –”

“No.” Keith looks up at him. “Come with me.” This time, it sounds like an order.

Shiro tilts his head. “If you’re sure,” he murmurs. 

“I’m sure.”

Shiro hums, and Keith swears it’s approving. “When do we leave?”

*

The mystery planet is, in a word, weird. 

It’s sort of tropical, but what look at first glance to be palm trees turn out to be giant sentient herbivores which go galloping off in fright at the sight of the paladins, prompting Lance and Hunk to shriek at the top of their lungs, Pidge to fall on her ass, Allura to attempt to communicate with the fleeing palm trees, Keith to activate his bayard, and Shiro to look like his soul has just left his body (again), promptly setting the tone for the rest of the trip. 

It’s kind of a disaster. At first, they plan to stay together, but this turns insufferable very quickly. Lance won’t stop complaining about the bugs, although to be fair, there are some very annoying purple gnat-like things which Lance seems to be allergic to, judging by the bright purple raisin-sized polka dots that break out along his arms when he dares to take off his armor one night. Pidge keeps claiming she knows exactly where the quintessence signatures are coming from, but something about the jungle must scramble their equipment, because the signatures never turn out to be anything, and always send them on wild goose chases.

Hunk is almost comically disturbed by the flora and fauna on the planet. Almost, because Keith’s never actually seen him so genuinely fascinated yet horrified by anything, and it’s a little worrying. Hunk does manage to find edible plants, fungi, and fruits for them, and once or twice they get a roast sort-of-pig, but very quickly Keith realizes they’re just eating the same things over and over again, because as Hunk informs them, “Pretty much everything here has funky adaptations and I’m not about to mess with that.” When Shiro asks what he means by “funky adaptations,” Hunk gets flustered and just advises them to try not to touch anything.

Allura and Shiro are the only ones who seem more or less delighted by the planet. It is very beautiful, there’s no denying that, and when everyone isn’t griping or bickering or panicking, it’s nice to have the old gang back together.

Then the storm hits.

They had been talking about splitting up anyway, but the planet makes that choice for them with a weather system to rival even the worst of Arizona’s monsoons. The rain and wind and flood tears through their campsite, a particularly strong gust actually picking Pidge up and tossing her somewhere into the jungle. Hunk goes running after her, and Lance tries to follow him, but is rudely interrupted by a falling tree. Allura manages to yank him to safety, but that puts Allura and Lance on the opposite side, cut off from Shiro and Keith, who scramble out of the collapsing tents just in time to escape another tree felled by the howling wind.

Keith fumbles to grab essential supplies, and Shiro tosses him his helmet. Keith just barely catches Allura yell through the comms,  _ We rendezvous at the Lions when this is over! _ before Shiro grabs his arm and drags him out of the campsite, which has become the final resting place for a third unfortunate tree. 

Shiro and Keith run through the jungle together, and Keith looks for shelter at every turn, but this place isn’t exactly hospitable, and all of the wildlife is in hiding, but hell if he knows where. “This is unbelievable!” Shiro shouts over the wind and torrential rain, both of them soaked to the skin through their undersuits – there wasn’t time to grab their paladin armor except for the helmets; they’ll have to return for it later.

“Aren’t you glad you came with, now?” Keith shouts back, just as lightning strikes way too close for comfort. 

Keith swears colorfully, and to his surprise, Shiro laughs. “Damn right I am!” Shiro hollers. “This is exciting!”

Keith splutters at him, wiping rain from his eyes. “Exciting? It’s a fucking mess out here!”

“Oh, come on, Keith, where’s your sense of adventure?” Shiro points through the trees, down the slight slope they’re running towards. “Look, I think I see a cave. Right across the river, see?”

“Shiro, we are  _ not _ crossing that river,” Keith groans. It doesn’t look very deep, true, but it’s wide and the pouring rain isn’t making for a very inviting current. “We’ll never make it –”

“Since when did you get old and boring?” Shiro exclaims, and before Keith can protest, Shiro grabs his hand and sprints down the slope towards the river. Keith yelps in shock, stumbling and slipping through the muddy undergrowth along after him, but Shiro isn’t slowing down, and he leaps into the river without hesitation, the triumphant, more than a little goofy grin that Keith loves so much plastered across his face –

– and then his grin slides right off as both of them realize that the riverbed is slick, smooth rock, and neither of them can find purchase on it, and heading towards them is a huge wave of water carried from upstream, and downstream, past several jagged boulders, are rapids, and past that...well, Keith’s pretty sure that even with the thunder and rain, he knows what a waterfall sounds like.

“Fuck,” Shiro squeaks, and then the wave hits them and they’re both tossed right into the center of the rushing river and rapidly downstream. Keith flails – he’s always disliked swimming, and struggles to tread water and keep his head afloat, frantically searching for Shiro as the jagged rocks grow closer and closer and the current strengthens around him. 

“Shiro!” Keith shouts, clawing at the air after a particularly powerful rapid shoves him under for a terrifying few seconds. It is less the lack of oxygen that terrifies him, and more the disorientation that follows, the sudden and awful fear that he’s lost Shiro in the river, until his dazed eyes find silver hair and he finds himself hauled up by Shiro’s right arm, which has left his side to help Keith keep his head above water.

“I’m here,” Shiro calls out, desperately trying to grab one of the slippery rocks and cutting his palm open instead with a loud hiss of pain. At the smell of Shiro’s blood, bright and metallic through the muffling rain, Keith struggles ever more to reach him, ignoring that Shiro’s arm is trying to tug him towards the riverbank. “Keith – stop it, I’m trying to help you –”

“And I’m not leaving you!” Keith shouts back, and sees the surprise and frustration on Shiro’s pale face a moment before the rapids hurl him into one of the jagged rocks, and he conks his head on solid stone.

*

Keith wakes up thinking that he doesn’t feel nearly as shitty as he should.

He lifts his head blearily, peering through softly rolling mist at the tumbling waterfall to confirm that, yes, he must have fallen over it, and yet – here he is. He’s laying in some kind of shallow pool – there are many such pools below the waterfall, with a large round central one surrounded by many smaller, more elliptical ones. 

The pools, Keith thinks, are strange. The water...doesn’t feel like water. It’s too thick, clinging to his undersuit like a thin layer of slime as he struggles out of the pool. Also, it’s not blue, but a soft, cool peachy color, and Keith doesn’t know if he hit his head really hard, or if it’s actually kind of...glowing.

His next thought is Shiro. Keith manages to sit up, and his head aches, but with more confusion than pain. “Shiro?” he calls through the mist, his skin prickling. The pools seem to be the only thing here, save for a few large trees shading the area, but there’s no birdsong, and though the storm seems to have cleared to light rain and fog, no other living things are out and about.

Then Keith hears a groan from through the mist, and with difficulty – his movements are oddly sluggish, and he blames it on the slime, which he can’t seem to get off entirely – he wanders towards the sound. “Shiro?” he calls again. “Are you okay?”

It doesn’t make sense that Shiro wouldn’t be right here. Keith remembers he was knocked out, and the pool he woke up in is a ways away from the waterfall, so someone must have gotten him out of the water and to safety. Why would Shiro leave his side? Maybe he was taken? Keith wishes he had his bayard, but walks more warily, listening for any other sound or movement through the mist. 

“Shiro,” he calls a third time, softer, and this time a voice answers.

“Keith,” Shiro gasps, “don’t – go find the others –”

Keith’s eyes widen. He splashes through the pools towards Shiro’s voice. “I’m not going anywhere; Shiro, are you hurt?”

Slowly, Keith is able to make out the shape of a figure slumped beside one of the pools. Shiro looks like he fell to his knees, and his shoulders are hunched and trembling, his right hand flickering with uneasy silver-blue light. “No, Keith,” Shiro grunts. “Go. Find the others.”

His voice is almost a growl; Keith’s never heard it like this before. “I already said I’m not leaving you,” Keith retorts. “Just tell me what’s wrong –”

It’s then that he’s hit with an overwhelming wave of Shiro’s scent. The water and the mist must have muffled it before, but now he’s close enough to smell the unmistakable thick heat of it, a taste that’s almost acrid, burning the back of Keith’s throat like gasoline – but he’s always liked the smell of gasoline. 

Shiro is in rut. 

Keith’s hindbrain helpfully supplies this fact, but to the rest of his brain, it makes no sense. Shiro wasn’t close to his rut, and Keith hates that he even knows that, but he keeps tabs, and – he was two months out, at least. It also makes no sense that a rut would happen here, of all places – maybe it was triggered by stress, but even then, Keith’s never heard of near-death encounters causing such a thing –

_ Oh,  _ Keith thinks as he staggers forward, and recognizes the thickening miasma of his own scent, a heady musk mingling with Shiro’s. The proximity makes him tense up instinctively, because another alpha is in his space, in his territory, but it’s – it’s Shiro, it’s his alpha, _ his,  _ and Keith doesn’t think at all when he starts forward with a frantic growling whine. He wades into the little pool, the almost-water squelching around his ankles, and Shiro whirls around at the sound, facing him, and. And.

Shiro’s undersuit is unzipped down the front, all the way down to the bulge of his cock, its glistening pink head peeking out from where it’s trapped beneath black spandex, like Shiro was trying to stop himself from jacking off properly but couldn’t bear not touching at all. He’s soaked with sweat, chest heaving and hair dripping, and his mouth is hanging open, and Keith can see his sharp canines, can see too the line of drool dripping down his chin and throat. “Keith,” Shiro pants. “I – I can’t stop it, I’m sorry, it’s – it’s never been this strong, this much, it’s this place, something in the water –”

Shiro is distressed and it makes Keith all the more distressed to see it. He shakes his head, not breaking Shiro’s glazed gaze. “It’s okay,” Keith tells him, and he means it. “You don’t – you don’t have to try to stop it, Shiro.” He barely even knows what he’s saying, but he knows it feels right. His own cock throbs, trapped against the zipper of his own undersuit, and Keith fumbles with the zipper before easing it down just like Shiro. That just feels right, too. Why are they wearing clothes at all? They’re just getting in the way.

“Keith,” Shiro says again, swaying towards him, “fuck, you need to – you really need to leave…”

“I don’t want to leave you,” Keith snaps, and the other alpha’s eyes darken. “I’m never leaving you, Shiro –”

“You smell so good,” Shiro breathes, his face blotched pink, expression still conflicted but becoming increasingly less so the closer he gets to Keith. “Why do you smell _ so good?” _

“You said,” Keith mumbles, straining to remember the words, “that sometimes – alphas can smell good...to other alphas…”

“You do,” Shiro promises, “fuck, Keith, you really do –”

“You can scent me,” Keith tells him, “if it would help –”

“You help,” Shiro says, staggering right into his space, “you always help,” and then Keith’s face is in Shiro’s hands and Shiro is kissing him. The other alpha’s tongue slides hotly past Keith’s lips and Keith welcomes it, arches into Shiro, yanks him closer, nails digging into hard muscle. He groans against Shiro’s mouth as Shiro grinds into him, the kissing half tongue and half Shiro just panting against Keith’s lips, like he can’t remember what he was meant to be doing.

When Keith reaches between them to unzip both of their undersuits the rest of the way, Shiro groans loud, the heavy arc of his cock slapping Keith’s stomach and nudging hard at Keith’s own cock. He’s leaking so much that the entire length is slippery and shining, and distantly Keith thinks he’s leaking more than usual too, but he can’t be bothered to wonder why when Shiro starts licking into his mouth again and grabs Keith’s hips, forcing them flush against each other. 

It feels so good that Keith almost falls over, but Shiro steadies him. Shiro draws back, staring at him with dark eyes, and Keith swallows. He should say it now before this haze overtakes him. “If — if you want to hurt me,” Keith starts, halting, “you can, if you need it.”

Shiro’s brow furrows. He makes a quiet rumbling sound and leans close, squinting. “Wha — why would I wanna hurt you?”

“Isn’t,” Keith starts, mouth dry, thoughts increasingly impossible to hold onto, “isn’t that what alphas wanna do to other alphas?”

Shiro huffs indignantly. “Uh-uh,” he mumbles. “I wanna — make you come.”

Keith wheezes. “Ah — you do?” 

“Yeah,” Shiro groans, clutching at him again, bruising, “we can — alphas do that. With each other. It’s fun. No — no fighting needed.”

“Oh,” Keith says, “have you – done that? With other alphas –”

“Uh-huh,” Shiro confirms, and Keith’s brain short-circuits, fizzling out in disbelief as Shiro walks backwards, towards the pool, his hands slipping lower on Keith’s body before he suddenly drops to his knees and  _ that’s Shiro’s mouth on his cock, _ lips open wide and tongue sliding over its ridges and veins. His big hands yank Keith’s undersuit down the rest of the way, and with faint bewilderment, Keith sees that the cut he could have sworn Shiro got on his left palm from the sharp rocks is completely gone. 

It’s hard to contemplate this further, though, with Shiro’s right hand spanning Keith’s thigh and his left hand curling securely around Keith’s ass, guiding him forward, deeper into Shiro’s waiting mouth. Keith shouts, the sound echoing through the clearing, but there’s no one for miles, just the two of them, and the thought that he has Shiro all to himself is dizzying. 

Keith fumbles, unsure where to put his hands, grasping desperately at Shiro’s hair for purchase when his knees start to give out from under him and his cock swells in Shiro’s mouth. It’s gonna be over way too fast, and Keith’s face burns in embarrassment, but when he tries to stammer out a warning Shiro seems to take it as a challenge and promptly buries his face in the dark curls at the base of Keith’s cock, breathing harshly through his nose and hollowing his cheeks as he sucks harder. 

There’s no way Keith could withstand that, and whimpers, tugging uselessly at Shiro’s hair as his cock twitches and he spills down Shiro’s throat in hot pulses. Shiro swallows the first bit, then pulls back, hand squeezing around the base of Keith’s cock where his knot would be, and Keith chokes back a gasp of horror and arousal at the sight of himself coming all over Shiro’s face. Shiro tips his chin back, Keith’s cum dripping down his face, sticky all over his chin and lips, which Shiro lazily licks clean, more sliding from his messy tongue. Fuck, there’s even some on his eyelashes. 

Keith sways unsteadily when it’s over, and slumps down to kneel with Shiro, panting. “I – I’m so sorry, fuck,” he babbles, reaching up to wipe at Shiro’s face and only making it worse. “I didn’t mean to – mmph!”

Shiro drags him in for a filthy kiss, and Keith moans uncertainly against him, hand curled around the back of Shiro’s neck. He’s pretty damn sure that alphas don’t come on each other’s faces casually – it’s territorial, he thinks, possessive. It should be an insult, a humiliation – but Shiro seems to have no complaints. He seems to  _ like _ it. Keith bites back another whimper, pulling Shiro closer to him, both of them falling back against the smooth stones with Shiro braced over Keith, his slippery undersuit and hard cock rubbing against Keith’s body in the best way. 

Keith is bewildered to find that his cock is already rehardening when Shiro pulls back, staring down at Keith, both of their faces now a mess. Sure, recovery time is fast during rut, but Keith isn’t even sure he ever went soft. Keith licks his lips, tasting himself, and Shiro growls. The sound makes Keith shiver, but not from fear.

“Don’t be sorry,” Shiro tells him, eyes narrowed. “Want you to, Keith. Want you to put your marks on me – in me…” 

Keith groans, his hips jerking up, grinding against Shiro. “Shiro, I –” He gulps, Shiro’s dark eyes tracking his every movement. The thick haze of rut flooding him is unlike any other time; he’s barely able to think, in fact, he doesn’t  _ want _ to think, only wants to  _ fuck,  _ to take the warm body sprawled over him like his own body so desperately needs, but it’s – it’s  _ Shiro, _ and Keith can’t fuck this up, refuses to.

“Yeah?” Shiro nudges at Keith’s nose with his own, and something in the gesture is so familiar and weirdly sweet that a lump forms in Keith’s throat.

“I – I’ve never done this before,” Keith whispers. “With anyone.”

He doesn’t know what he expects, but it’s not for Shiro to shudder and swear under his breath, his cock giving a helpless little twitch against Keith’s hip. “No?” Shiro breathes. He sounds kind of delighted. “Never?” Keith shakes his head. Shiro hums. “Want me to show you, Keith? Show you how to make me feel good?” Keith whines, sharp and high-pitched, and Shiro’s grin widens. Keith absolutely _ doesn’t _ shiver at the memory of the last time he saw that kind of grin on Shiro’s face, more than a little wicked, fangs on display.  _ That’s the Keith I remember. _

“Yes,” Keith manages, when Shiro keeps waiting for a real answer, something other than a frantic sound. “Yes, Shiro, I want – I want to make you feel good, please, let me –”

Shiro puts a finger over his lips and Keith goes cross-eyed. “No begging,” Shiro says sternly. Keith swallows, chastened, and Shiro’s expression softens. “You don’t need to beg with me, baby.”

The pet name sends a new ripple of delicious want through him, and Keith finds himself nodding, unable to look away from Shiro, his hands lifting to cup Shiro’s hips. He’s suddenly annoyed by the undersuit that still clings to Shiro’s body, and tries to pull at it. Shiro’s gaze darts down, and once he realizes what Keith’s doing, he starts to chuckle, only to fall silent as Keith’s frustration tips over and he literally rips the undersuit from Shiro’s body, the sound of tearing fabric loud and unmistakable. 

The suit hangs in ribbons around Shiro’s hips, and Keith tries to peel the fabric from Shiro’s thighs before Shiro stops him, capturing Keith’s hands in his own. Keith’s fingers twitch and he growls softly in protest. “Wanna make you feel good,” Keith repeats, and this time, he’s definitely not begging.

Shiro slowly releases his hands, both of them peering at Keith’s nails, which are sharper, closer to claws than they were before. “Huh,” Shiro says, a little dazed. Then he pulls away, and Keith scrambles to sit up, heart pounding, scent spiking in worry, but Shiro lets out a low, reassuring croon and stands, tugging off the rest of his undersuit, and then Takashi Shirogane is standing over Keith in all of his wet, naked glory and fuck, just like that Keith is fully hard again. 

Shiro looks like he’s about to say something, but stutters off into silence as Keith crawls towards him with intent, hands sliding up his calves, to his inner thighs, mouthing along Shiro’s skin as he goes. Keith is drowning in the scent and taste of him, lapping at the sweat forming in the dip of Shiro’s hips, then down the dark trail towards his cock which hangs thick and irresistible, too heavy to curve up fully. 

Shiro is saying something, but Keith isn’t listening, and it can’t have mattered much anyway because it dissolves into moans when Keith gets his hands on Shiro’s cock, one hand cupping the weighty swell of his balls and the other stroking his cock, focusing his attention at the base where he can feel a promising thickening. Keith exhales over the crown, and is just about to close his lips over it when a firm hand in his hair yanks him away from his prize. 

Keith reacts instinctively, growling and surging up, and Shiro lets out a startled squawk as Keith more or less tackles him, both of them toppling back into the nearest pool of definitely-not-water. Keith pins him, the pool shallow enough that Shiro’s only half-submerged, still able to breathe and clutch at Keith as Keith kisses him again, this time biting and with newfound confidence. Shiro wants him. Shiro wants Keith to make him feel good, and Keith’s gonna do it. 

“Keith,” Shiro groans, and then, louder and more frantic as Keith breaks away from the kiss to mouth at his neck,  _ “Keith –” _

Keith doesn’t bite down, doesn’t mark him there, but he  _ wants, _ oh how he wants. His eyes flutter shut at the hard beat of Shiro’s pulse beneath his tongue, and his entire body strains closer at the thought of biting down, his canines grazing Shiro’s skin in the most tantalizing, awful way. Shiro doesn’t even try to move away, just lets his head fall back into the pool, panting harshly under Keith. 

His breaths grow even heavier when Keith lets his lips trail downward, until his teeth graze the curve of Shiro’s chest and his tongue flattens against Shiro’s nipple. Keith hesitates for half a second before covering Shiro’s nipple with his mouth, teeth digging into the meat of the muscle flexing under his tongue as Shiro arches up into it with a choked moan. 

His right hand has an iron grip around Keith’s waist and the bruising weight of it is blissful, Keith hums and sucks, tugging at Shiro’s nipple with his teeth as roughly as he dares. Shiro shouts, a sound that falls off into breathless, almost embarrassed laughter. Keith lifts his head. 

Without realizing it, Keith has been kneading at Shiro’s chest, leaving little pink claw marks all over it. Shiro catches his eye and huffs, ears red. “Sorry,” he manages, “that’s, uh, an omega thing.”

Keith licks his lips. “Yeah?” His voice is half-growl. “You seemed to like it.”

Shiro swallows. “Yeah, but, it’s not – I mean, it’s not gonna _ do _ anything –”

“It makes you feel good,” Keith says, ducking back down to bite at Shiro’s chest again, squarely over his pectoral, where the hard muscle gives way to perfect, pillowy softness. “That’s something, Shiro – that’s all I want. All I ever wanted.”

Shiro shudders and goes silent at that, mouth falling open wordlessly as Keith moves to his other nipple, licking and biting and delighting in how pink and puffy he can make the area, drawing Shiro’s brown nipple into his mouth until Shiro is squirming under him, hard cock pressed to his own, leaking insistently. Keith realizes that Shiro hasn’t come yet, and the epiphany is unacceptable, yet he doesn’t expect Shiro to gasp and spill over his fingers when Keith reaches between them to wrap a hand around Shiro’s messy cock. Keith pulls back just a little and sees where Shiro’s left hand has gone. 

A groan rises in his throat: Shiro’s hand is tucked between his spread thighs, two fingers shoved deep into his hole, submerged in the pool. The liquid, Keith realizes, is acting as lube, as slick. Keith reels back, pupils dilating and sweat beading his brow, for a long moment unable to do anything but stare at Shiro fucking himself on two fingers. Then something clicks, and Keith is on him again, whining and grasping at his wrist, pleading for Shiro to let him help. Shiro is his, his alpha, and Keith is his alpha, and Keith should be the one doing that for him. Keith would do a good job. He would make Shiro so wet and open for him, just for him –

He doesn’t realize he’s said all of this aloud until Shiro’s cock jerks with another pulse of climax, the other alpha baring his teeth and shuddering as he looks at Keith with raw desperation, pulls his fingers from the hot clutch of his body, and rolls over, braced on his hands and knees in the pool in front of Keith. 

Keith keens, overwhelmed at the sight, at the scent of Shiro presenting so blatantly, and part of him balks at it, at Shiro submitting to _ him, _ why would an alpha like Shiro do  _ that, _ for  _ him  _ – but it’s hard to have any room for doubt when Shiro smells so divine and Keith is shuffling closer, almost shy as he nuzzles over Shiro’s ass.

Keith has the thought of biting it, of leaving bruises all over the smooth curve of warm, plump flesh, but it looks so pretty, and he settles for stroking his palms over it, spreading Shiro’s cheeks so he can find where Shiro’s started to prepare himself and – Keith groans, because whatever is in these pools has done more than open Shiro a little. His hole is dripping, rim stretched as wide as if three of Shiro’s metal fingers had just left it, and it must be sensitive because Shiro hisses and pushes back into Keith’s grip when Keith touches it with a wondering fingertip. 

When Keith leans close and drags his tongue over it, Shiro grunts, tensing up, but his scent blooms under Keith’s tongue and as Keith licks again, he feels Shiro give, trembling and spreading his thighs wider. Keith tries to force his tongue inside, panting again, salivating, the taste of alpha musk and hot sweat and the honey sweetness of the pools turning the world into a maelstrom of sensation that he tumbles happily into. He licks Shiro open eagerly, his drool running down Shiro’s already sticky thighs, and Shiro cries out. 

Keith fucks him with his tongue again and again until Shiro’s rim twitches and he comes again, so much that Keith has to pull back to look, forcing Shiro’s thighs wider apart so he can see how his cock swells and spills. Keith reaches out to touch and Shiro whines, hips jolting away at the sensitivity, but he doesn’t stop Keith, and looks over his shoulder, dazed and gasping when Keith brings his fingers to his mouth and licks Shiro’s cum away in slow, worshipful laps. It tastes good, and he’s not even surprised. It’s Shiro. Of course it’s good.

_ “Keith,”  _ Shiro growls, shoving his hips back, and _ that  _ wakes Keith up. He blinks stupidly at Shiro’s perfect, waiting ass, then at Shiro’s glowering, expectant eyes. “Stop teasing me.”

Keith squeezes his ass, pressing a little closer. His cock is so hard that he’ll be lucky if he lasts a second. His palms are clammy. He has to be good for Shiro. He can’t mess this up; he won’t get a second chance –

Shiro groans and Keith finds himself grabbed by Shiro’s right arm, which closes around the nape of his neck and lifts him like an unruly kitten until his hips are flush against Shiro’s ass, his cock nudging against Shiro’s wet hole. Keith clings to Shiro’s hips, staring at the small of his back, chest rising and falling unevenly, and Shiro makes a low sound under him, a soft coo, before his hand gentles on Keith’s neck, and Shiro twists around to draw him into a kiss. Keith should’ve known Shiro was kind of nasty, too. 

He moans, melting into it, into Shiro, and Shiro whispers, “Love you, baby,” as he draws away, and Keith thinks he blacks out for a second, because when he’s aware of himself again, his cock is buried inside Shiro and Shiro is groaning words of praise under him, braced on his forearms, the pool sloshing around them as Keith thrusts deep. 

“Just like that,” Shiro says, muffled, pressing back as Keith rolls his hips, their joined eagerness spurring Keith on faster, harder, his claws scratching at Shiro’s waist as he drags Shiro back onto his cock. Shiro is tight and hot and clenches around his cock on every drag out, like he’s trying to keep Keith there, like he was made to warm Keith’s cock and love every second of it. 

That thought is too much for Keith to handle, and he whimpers when he feels himself coming already, scrabbling at Shiro’s hips out of fear that his cock will slip free, or Shiro will, or both. But Shiro and Keith’s cock stay right where they are, and both of them groan. Keith is still hard – harder, even, than before. What’s more, he can feel the pressure at the base of his cock, the swell of his girth as he slowly starts up a rhythm again, whining at the unbelievable slickness of Shiro’s hole now that Keith’s already filled him. Cum leaks out around Keith’s cock, dribbling down Shiro’s thighs, and it’s a sight Keith swears he’s never gonna forget.

Shiro must feel it too, because he shudders and his spine bows, his ass now the highest point of his body, his face buried in his arms as he begs for Keith to give him more,  _ more.  _ Thankfully, there’s more to give, and Keith can no longer feel any shame about coming so soon when he finds himself unable to stop moving, fucking Shiro open until he’s writhing and seemingly unable to say anything more than splintered renditions of  _ yes, _ and  _ Keith, _ and  _ please.  _

The words sound so damn good in Shiro’s mouth, and Keith is more than happy to oblige. It’s only when the aching throb of his cock becomes near-unbearable, feeling as if it’s about to burst, that Keith falters, hips trembling from the effort of holding himself back. Shiro’s chest heaves, and he glances back to look at Keith, his gaze unfocused, brow knitted together, lips shiny with spit and remnants of Keith’s cum.

Keith’s cock splits him wide already, but his knot splits Shiro wider, the rim of his hole straining around it as Keith presses uncertainly forward. His body isn’t uncertain, but Keith refuses to let go of the bit of his brain that refuses to let Shiro get hurt. Shiro grunts and tenses under him and Keith covers Shiro’s body with his own in reply, shushing him, trailing kisses over Shiro’s stiff shoulders until Shiro slumps back into it with a shaky breath and Keith _ feels  _ the give of his body, feels that Shiro can take him. The instant he does, Keith shoves against him, maybe a little clumsy and a little rough, but it gets the job done. 

Shiro  _ shouts,  _ hole clamping down on Keith’s knot as soon as it’s inside, and Keith claws Shiro to him, holds him tight and is vaguely aware of his lips on Shiro’s neck as his cock floods Shiro with cum. Keith is vaguely aware of burying his face in Shiro’s throat as Shiro bares it to him with a mumbled plea, and vaguely aware also of his lips parting, his teeth grazing soft flesh, but it is the moment that his teeth break skin that is most vivid, the shocking warmth of Shiro’s blood filling his mouth as he fills Shiro. 

Shiro jerks in his grasp and his hole tightens and ripples around Keith’s spilling cock and swollen knot and it’s second nature when Keith’s hand finds Shiro’s and they stroke his needy cock in tandem. Keith keeps his teeth in Shiro’s throat as his fist closes around the base of Shiro’s cock and squeezes around the fat knot he feels there. His eyes roll back at the thought of that knot inside him, and maybe Shiro thinks of the same thing, because he’s coming with a ragged snarl, knees giving out from under him, both of them crumpling into the pool as he shudders through climax in Keith’s embrace. 

The world is blurry and strange when Keith finally releases Shiro, and he blinks at the wound he’s left on Shiro’s neck, the bloodied bite of a fresh mating mark. In that moment, Keith can find nothing wrong with it except that it’s too messy, and he rumbles in concern, licking the marks clean and preening at Shiro’s answering rumble. No matter that it’s not the high, sweet keen of an omega. That’s not what Keith wants. It’s Shiro, and Shiro is what matters. He’s the one who has always mattered.

“Keith,” Shiro whispers as Keith cups his cheek, guides Shiro’s face up and away from the cool pool of definitely-not-water. He looks at Keith, brow furrowed. His expression is confused, distant, like he’s trying very hard to recall something important. “You…”

“Mine,” Keith whispers back, brushing a kiss across his lips, peering down at him. “Yes?”

Shiro just nods, confusion slipping into exhaustion, and Keith coos, wrapping around him, his cock sheathed safe and snug in his alpha, Shiro limp and sated in his arms, everything right with the world.

*

Keith is rudely awoken by lights shining on them, and his eyes flicker open, bewilderment turning to ferocity when he sees the figures holding the lights. Keith growls, shielding Shiro’s body with his own, and his alpha stirs under him with a soft  _ huh? _

Keith growls louder. The figures chatter frantically to each other with increasing volume. If they’re speaking a language, Keith doesn’t know it, and their universal translators aren’t recognizing it.

The figures step closer and Keith bares his teeth, snapping at the figures. It’s nighttime – they’ve been out for a while, since the storm must have been around dawn – and he can barely make out their silhouettes, but they’re distinctly alien. _ A threat,  _ he thinks, and the aliens’ chatter turns distinctly panicked when Keith’s growl deepens into something alien, too, his pupils slitted. 

“Get back,” he hisses, bristling when they step closer instead. Under him, Shiro shifts up, and Keith tries to keep him down, tries to keep him safe, but then something whistles through the air, there’s a sharp sting just behind Keith’s ear, and he flops uselessly into darkness, a dead weight over Shiro as the figures close in on them.

*

When Keith wakes again, he’s laying on some kind of cot, and he has the worst headache of his life. He sits up, gingerly rubbing his temples, blinking at his surroundings without comprehension. Some kind of house, a hut, maybe, small and dim and – he’s not alone.

The cot he was laying in was meant for two, he realizes, but as he lifts his gaze to the small sort of sofa in the round room, he sees Shiro sitting there, head in his hands. His scent is unmistakably sour with worry and stress. Keith swallows. Something – happened. He did...something wrong. He thinks he knows what it was, but that’s – that can’t be right, he can’t have possibly –

Shiro stiffens in surprise when he feels Keith’s gaze on him, and as he lowers his hands, Keith sees with immediate horror the raw, red mating mark on Shiro’s neck. 

He scrambles back on the cot, sucking in a breath, and realizes that he’s still naked, hastily grabbing the woven reed blanket nearby and attempting to cover himself with it, staring at Shiro. Shiro is clothed, in some kind of long, green and brown poncho-esque outfit that normally Keith would consider ridiculous, but there is no room in his mind currently for anything but a growing, sickening shame. 

“Keith…” Shiro starts, then winces, his nose wrinkling and brow creasing further, and Keith cringes further away. He must smell terrible to Shiro, of course he does, why would he think any different? How can Shiro ever forgive him for this?

“I fucked up bad,” Keith whispers. “I know that. I’m so – Shiro, I’m so _ sorry –” _

“Stop.” Shiro’s tone leaves no room for disagreement. Keith flinches at the order, then hangs his head, because it’s exactly what he deserves, and hunches inward, avoiding Shiro’s gaze. He doesn’t think he’s worthy of looking Shiro in the eye right now. He hears Shiro exhale, measured, struggling to remain controlled. “It wasn’t your fault, Keith. We weren’t – in our right minds.”

“Mating marks are permanent,” Keith retorts, hurt curling deep in his gut.  _ And you don’t want mine. _

Shiro sighs. “That’s not...I’m sure there’s some way to remove it, Keith.”

Keith  _ doesn’t  _ whimper at such a clear rejection, but it’s a near thing. He feels flayed, vulnerable and all hollow inside. “Right,” he whispers, his voice breaking.

Shiro stands, and takes a step towards the cot. “Keith, hey…”

Keith turns away. He can’t face Shiro right now, and maybe that makes him a coward – no, it definitely makes him a coward – but there’s no way in hell he can pretend to be okay with just being Shiro’s friend, with all this just being one big mistake, mere hours after he felt how  _ right _ it was to make Shiro his. 

“Don’t,” he pleads, and Shiro stops. Keith hates how his scent fills the hut, cool and comforting even with the bitter tinge of uncertainty threaded through it, because Shiro’s scent here only reminds him of how good Shiro’s scent was at the source. Keith stares firmly at the wall. 

Shiro sits back down. He clears his throat. “I, um. I can try to see if they’ll get you some clothes.”

“Who are ‘they’?” Keith mutters warily.

“The people who live here,” Shiro says. “They, uh, they’re the ones who found us. I can’t understand them, but they seemed...excited?”

“Excited?” Keith doesn’t like the sound of that. “About  _ what?”  _ he snaps.

“Not like that,” Shiro reproaches, and Keith frowns at the wall. “Just. Excited. I don’t know. I’ll go find clothes, unless you prefer nudity.”

“Okay,” Keith mumbles, and as Shiro leaves the small hut, “thanks.”

As soon as Shiro is gone, Keith lets out a sob he didn’t know he was holding, and presses his palms to his eyes until the urge to cry is smothered somewhere alongside the urge to grab Shiro as soon as he comes back through that door and never let go.

*

It’s almost a full day and night of awkward silence, stilted conversation, and attempted rest (whatever the pools did to them, it’s left them both inexplicably exhausted and sleep doesn’t seem to help as much as it should) before the other paladins find them.

Allura bursts into their hut with a startling degree of joy for someone who looks like they’ve just been trekking through the jungle for hours on end. “Oh, paladins!” she exclaims, clapping her hands and bouncing a little on her heels. “What marvelous news! I’m so happy for you both!” 

Keith blinks from where he’s sulking on the cot and nursing a hopefully alcoholic beverage, and Shiro starts to his feet, looking as confused as Keith feels. “Princess,” Shiro says, gaze darting to Keith and then hastily back to Allura, “I’m glad you found us, but...is there some other good news we should know about?”

Allura laughs. “Oh, don’t be silly, of course there is! You’re soulmates! Didn’t the Oxiglociaulians tell you?”

Keith chokes, coughing and spraying alien alcohol all over the wall. Shiro opens his mouth, closes it, and smiles politely. “Ah,” he says. “I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding.”

Allura frowns and folds her arms. “Misunderstanding? No, no, the Oxiglociaulians were very clear that you two found the sacred Pools of Destiny. Rough translation, but something like that. They didn’t tell you this? Why are the two of you looking at me like I’ve grown another head?!”

“We can’t understand them,” Shiro starts, looking stricken, “the translators weren’t working –”

“The Pools of Destiny?” Keith wheezes. “What the fuck?”

Allura huffs. “Yes, the Pools of Destiny – oh, dear. One moment.” She ducks out of the hut to holler something.

Shiro looks at Keith. Keith stares at him helplessly and mouths  _ What the fuck?  _ again because he doesn’t know what else to say. Shiro just kind of shrugs. His ears are red. He looks flustered. It’s very cute.

Keith mentally sucker punches himself.  _ NO. _

Allura darts back into the hut with an Oxiglociaulian in tow. They look like frogs gone wrong, which is maybe rude, but Keith isn’t sure what else he’s supposed to make of an amphibious green humanoid with four arms and a third eye smack dab in the middle of their forehead. They’re wearing a poncho like Shiro’s, except it’s purple and yellow, and they make a nervous little chittering sound when they catch Keith glaring at them.

“This is Raxiskickal,” Allura declares, giving the anxious alien a friendly pat on one of their slimy, long-fingered hands. “Will you tell them what you told me, and I can translate?”

Raxiskickal gives an awkward little nod and begins speaking, gesturing with each word.

“The Pools of Destiny are an ancient and sacred site which has brought centuries’ worth of soulmates together,” Allura explains. “The Oxiglociaulians believe that the Pools have the power to bring such couples together and make their bond complete, which of course varies from species to species.”

“Bullshit,” Keith snaps. Allura frowns at him, and Keith can feel Shiro doing the same, but he’s purposefully avoiding looking in that direction. “The pools are just – it’s an aphrodisiac, Allura, that’s it!”

Allura translates – delicately – to Raxiskickal, who reacts by turning violently purple and spluttering out a reply. “The Pools are  _ not _ simply an aphrodisiac,” Allura retorts, “as they don’t affect everyone who encounters them! They’re only activated when in the presence of soulmates.” She purses her lips. “I can confirm this; Pidge and I explored the pools thoroughly earlier, and though I would be honored if it were the case, nothing happened, so I believe it’s safe to say that the Green Paladin and I are not meant to be.”

_ “How is that possible,”  _ Shiro manages, strained. Keith’s vocal cords aren’t working.

“It’s the reason for this planet’s extremely high quintessence signatures!” Allura replies. “It makes sense, it brings the right people’s life forces together, and I think it’s very romantic – er, Keith, you look...ill.”

Keith stands, swaying slightly. “The Pools are broken,” he says. “That’s not – Shiro and I aren’t –”

He misses the flash of pain on Shiro’s ashen face before Shiro quietly crosses the hut to steady him with a hand on Keith’s arm. He doesn’t expect the contact to feel as utterly electric as it does, and Keith jolts as an inexplicable wave of relief and calm washes over him. Suddenly, the exhaustion of the past day fades, ebbing away under Shiro’s touch. 

Raxiskickal says something else and Allura adds, “It seems the Oxiglociaulians are a bit worried, and I admit to some concern as well – only one of you appears to be marked, and that is how humans declare yourselves as mates, correct?” Shiro nods slowly. Keith stares at Shiro’s hand. “Right, well, then Raxiskickal recommends that you get right to giving Keith a mark, too, otherwise you may both be quite miserable, as the bond will be incomplete!” She smiles at them, and remains on the threshold expectantly. Raxiskickal’s three eyes stare pointedly at the ceiling.

“Allura,” Shiro says kindly, “marking is more of...a private thing.”

“Oh!” Her cheeks turn pink. “Well, then I will give you two some space –”

Keith starts forward, Shiro’s hand falling from his arm. “Allura, wait,” Keith pleads, “there – there really has to be a mistake, here.”

“Does there?” Shiro asks. His tone is weirdly flat, expression unreadable and scent almost nonexistent when Keith glances back at him. 

“Yes!” Keith almost yells. “I know you didn’t want this, okay! I know that, and the Pools were broken because they got it wrong, but they were half-right, because – Shiro, I did want you.”

Allura’s eyes go wide. So do Raxiskickal’s. They let out an uncomfortable croak and slink towards the exit. 

Shiro is very still. Then he says, “Allura.”

“Right!” she squeaks again, and hurries out after Raxiskickal.

The silence in their absence is deafening. 

Keith stands his ground, hands curled into fists at his sides, and forces himself to look Shiro in the eye when he says, “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I should have. I know that. But I knew you didn’t feel the same, I mean, you had someone like Adam, and you deserve that, not – me.”

“It doesn’t matter to me that you’re another alpha, Keith,” Shiro says. “That’s never mattered.”

Keith lets out a short, sharp laugh. “See, you can say that, but it’s not really the truth,” he retorts. “Of course it matters. You think things would be the way they’ve been between us if I was an omega?”

Shiro’s mouth twitches. “Well, you probably wouldn’t have pinned me down and knotted me if you were an omega, but who knows, I wouldn’t judge –”

“Shiro, I’m serious,” Keith snaps. 

“So am I.” Shiro takes a step forward and Keith stiffens. Shiro stops, eyes narrowing. “See, why do you do that? Why are you looking at me like I’m gonna fight you?” Shiro’s voice is rising in volume slowly but surely. “You asked me why I was avoiding you, before. You want to know why, Keith? Because I can’t stand it when you look at me like that, like you think I’m gonna try to – to kill you again.”

“That wasn’t you,” Keith whispers, stricken, “Shiro, wait, that’s not –”

“Or is it the alpha thing?” Shiro demands. “Have you  _ ever _ known me to be the violent type, Keith? Or even the type to care about that shit? You thought I was gonna hurt you, at the Pools, I remember that.  _ Why? _ Why would I ever hurt you, Keith, when you –” Shiro swallows, shakes his head. “When you mean more to me than anyone else?”

Keith’s never seen Shiro like this, and the other alpha’s scent is choking, strong and roiling with distress and frustration like a thunderstorm, petrichor clear and bright and bergamot rich and cloying. “I thought,” Keith starts, and stops, his thoughts falling to pieces at the sight of Shiro so close, so intent. “I thought you would be mad at me,” he admits. “Or – or worse, I thought you would be nice about it, and then you would leave, and this time you wouldn’t come back, because you would leave to – to go find a real family, and –”

Shiro hugs him. Keith blinks, face slightly smushed, body entirely crushed in Shiro’s thick arms. “Don’t,” Shiro warns, and Keith stills at the sound of a sob in the word.  _ “You’re _ my family, Keith. You’re the only family I need.”

Keith’s arms hang limp at his sides. He stares at the wall over Shiro’s shoulder, uncomprehending. “No,” he says, “no, Shiro, you’re –”  _ The Garrison golden alpha. The Champion. The Black Paladin. The Captain. The Admiral. You. _

“In love with you,” Shiro finishes, pulling away just enough to look him in the eye. “I’m in love with you, Keith.”

Keith gawks at him. “What.”

Shiro’s inscrutable expression is now definitely exasperated. “I pushed Zethrid into a volcano and went into a feral rage when I saw she left bruises on your neck, Keith. Come on.”

“Because – because you’re my best friend, and we watch each other’s backs –” Keith stammers, even as the pieces finally, impossibly begin to fall into place.

Shiro raises an eyebrow. “Oh, sure, but I don’t think best friends also watch each other’s asses, do they?”

Keith turns red. “I – that’s –”

“I said best friends,” Shiro adds. “As in, plural. As in, pretty sure we both did that.”

Keith’s mouth is dry. “Oh.”

“Oh,” Shiro parrots, and sighs at him. “Keith. I told you I loved you, when…” He flails a hand.

“When I was fucking you?” Keith ventures. Shiro makes a faint affirmative. “I thought – of course I thought you didn’t mean it, we were both a mess –”

“Why is it so hard to believe I meant it?” Shiro coaxes, and squeezes Keith – he still hasn’t let go, and the proximity is dizzying. “I meant it, Keith. It’s not like it’s difficult for me to fall in love with you and imagine spending the rest of my life with you. In fact, honestly, it’s scary how easy it is. Especially when I didn’t think you loved me back.”

“Shiro,” Keith croaks, “how could I ever not love you?”

“I rest my case,” Shiro says, and kisses him. Blearily, and somewhat hysterically, Keith thinks Shiro would make a great lawyer in another life. 

It’s different, kissing Shiro when they’re both utterly, painfully sober and there’s no mysterious space juice to ease the way. But – Shiro was right. It’s still... _ easy. _ Shiro kisses him and it just feels _ right _ to clutch Shiro to him and kiss him back until they’re both stumbling towards the weird sofa and tumbling down onto it. Shiro falls heavy atop him, looking down at Keith and tilting his head. Keith peers up at him, heart pounding, hardly daring to hope even with Shiro right there before him.

“I should have done this a long time ago,” Shiro tells him, and leans down to nuzzle at the juncture of Keith’s neck and shoulder. Keith’s grip on Shiro’s shoulders turns bruising, and he whimpers when Shiro exhales over the skin, mouths wetly over Keith’s throat. Shiro pauses, his right hand stroking down Keith’s side, soothing, holding him. “Yes?”

Keith makes a breathy noise he doesn’t mean to and squeezes his eyes shut when Shiro’s teeth graze his throat. “Yes,” he gasps, and when Shiro’s teeth sink home and Keith arches up into him, overwhelmed by the sudden, unmistakable feeling of being whole,  _ “Yes.” _

Alphas aren’t supposed to want their mate to be another alpha.

And yet. There Keith and Shiro are, in love with each other.


End file.
